STAR WARS: A Thief in the Knight
by Metamorph Jack
Summary: Using the force to steal and cheat. That is how Jerrico Lurch has survived on Nar Shaddaa. But now his past has come back to haunt him, and his life is in grave danger. As an ordinary evening turns into a living nightmare, Jerrico discovers that a deadly entity roams the lunar city, far worse than any bounty hunter or gangster.
1. Chapter 1 - The Spoils of Victory

Dismal overcast permeated the maroon night sky over Nar Shaddaa, leaving scarcely a star in sight. Known colloquially as the Smuggler's Moon, it was the largest natural satellite of the planet Nal Hutta. It owed its murky atmosphere to the rampant pollution generated by the technoscape below. The all-encompassing city billowed thick smoke from it's factories and vehicles that trailed into the skies above where it lingered, enabling the formation of unnatural cloud cover. Dense fog blanketed the enormous urban sprawl, penetrated only by the tallest skyscrapers, shrouding everything else within its reach. Among the immense grid of permacrete and durasteel spires that dominated the surface, there stood a thirty-story trihex prism of alloy and glass. The bronze-colored exterior walls that once gleamed in the light had aged over the course of nearly a century, leaving them with a dull matte finish. The external frame bolstered three permacrete beams aligned vertically along each face from top to bottom. Their tips were fixed to a horizontal trihex beam that ran around the circumference of the structure's apex. Massive identical signs were attached to highest point of every third face. Lit up in bright neon, they glowed with the words "Azura Casino".

On the circular marble steps of the main entrance, Jerrico and his new friend Bruma were taking their leave following his big win on the jubilee wheel. The prize was 100,000 credits loaded onto a check-cartridge, ready to be withdrawn in at the winner's convenience.

Jerrico Lurch, twenty-seven years in age, was human male of brown complexion. He had close-cropped black hair, monolid hazel eyes, and a wiry muscular build. He sported a white double-breasted overcoat with a matching undershirt, black trousers, and polished black shoes.

"You actually did it. That was unreal," Bruma remarked in awe.

Bruma Decalvo, twenty-one years in age, was a zabrak female of pale complexion. She had long red hair, yellow eyes, and a lean physique. Clad in a black leather dress, she wore long fingerless gloves on her forearms and a black and red sash embroidered with ancient glyphs around her waist.

The two met earlier that evening at the casino cantina. When he first approached her, all swagger and confidence, he boasted that he could win any game in the room. But Bruma was not convinced, the claim sounded ludacris. Then Jerrico proposed a wager. If she picked a game for him to play, and he won at it, he would get to spend the night with her at his penthouse suite. Amused by his brazen attitude, she humoured him by accepting the wager. Sure enough, Jerrico came out the victor, just as he said he would. Winning thousands of credits suddenly made him very attractive in her eyes, and so she eagerly held up her end of the deal, lending him her company.

"I _told_ you, babe. I'm the luckiest man on Nar Shaddaa" he proclaimed in a cocky manner.

 _Better yet, I'm about to get even luckier._ He thought to himself, looking Bruma up and down.

A row of vestigial horns white as bone formed a crown around her the top of her head. Black tattoos of curving arcs and small diamonds symmetrically marked each side of her angelic visage. Her well-tailored dress wrapped tightly around her slender, curvaceous figure, stirring lascivious excitement in Jerrico.

"You certainly are," she cooed amorously.

Such desires were often indulged with reckless abandon on Nar Shaddaa. Ever since its foundation, the moon had been a haven for those seeking to partake all manner of excess. It was hotbed of corruption, regulated by the crime lords of the Hutt Clan, frequented by smugglers, bounty hunters, gangsters, and many other unsavory characters. Separated from the galactic core by a great distance, Nar Shaddaa's position on the edge of the mid-rim was beyond the reach of the newly-reorganized Galactic Empire. The establishment of the New Order demanded that the government focus it attention inward. Consequently, the moon was now even more lawless than it was during the reign of Galactic Republic, much to the satisfaction Nar Shaddaa's career criminals and their clients.

Relying on a private taxi service for transport, Jerrico summoned a luxury airspeeder through his hand held commlink. He and Bruma strolled over to the pick-up zone on the casino's border were their driver was waiting for them. He knocked on his window, and the driver wound it down.

"Mr Lurch?" He asked, examining Jerrico.

"The one and only," he answered proudly.

The driver flicked a switch on airspeeder's console, unlocking the doors. In chivalrous fashion, Jerrico opened the back-passenger door for Bruma. She stepped inside and he followed behind her.

"Where to then, sir?" The driver asked.

"The Cynthion Hotel, and be quick about it," Jerrico instructed.

The driver keyed in the address into the console's navigation computer.

"The cost of your journey is 110 credits. Cash or card?," he inquired.

"Nah," Jerrico protested casually.

Making a slight motion with his hand at his side he added,

"Your not gonna charge us for the lift."

The driver's eyes started to narrow at his arrogant customer, but then stopped half-way and went calm again. His voice took on a sudden monotone.

"I'm...not gonna charge you for the lift," he uttered obediently.

Jerrico smiled, satisfied with the response.

"My my," she remarked. "So persuasive."

"I have a gift," he bragged with a smirk.

His statement carried more truth than he let on.

With a deep reverberating hum, the airspeeder's repulsorlift carried the vehicle high into the nearest skylane.

Buzzing throughout the upper levels of the city, both private and commercial repulsorcrafts wove their way between buildings, moving in orderly lines like an insect colony.

Leaning back in his seat, Jerrico stretched his left arm over his head, and put it around Bruma's shoulder.

"So," he began. "What _does_ pretty thing like you do day-to-day?"

She met his lecherous gaze with one of her own.

"I'm a pleasure-seeker," she answered. "My inheritance covers my living expenses, with plenty left over to indulge in the finer things the galaxy has to offer."

She squinted slightly, examining his features and body language.

"And what is it _you_ do when you're not winning big at casinos?" She asked.

"I'm a freelance courier," he replied. "I transport heavy freight across the districts."

Bruma imagined what lean musculature might be wrapped under Jerrico's fine formal wear, certain that he too was imagining what laid beneath her's.

"I like man who knows how to handle precious goods. That sort of labor must take real strength."

"Sure does. I'm even stronger than I look y'know."

"Is that so? I'll have to see this for myself."

"You won't have to wait long," he assured her, leaning in a little closer.

"Good for me," she gushed, stifling a giggle.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Gift

The Cynthion Hotel stood several hundred meters over the rest of the block. It's gleaming silver structure consisted of eight towers interconnected by one central tower, all protruding from a single octagonal base. The towers facing the cardinal directions were rectangular in shape, while those facing the intercardinal directions were hexagonal. They were joined at the center by a circular tower, wider and taller than the rest.

The airspeeder made it's descent towards the landing platform atop the northwest tower. The space was situated just outside the tower's penthouse, reserved for the guest currently occupying that accommodation. Gliding onto the platform, the airspeeder came to a halt. The driver exited his vehicle and opened the door for Bruma. She stepped out with Jerrico following close behind.

"You two have a splendid evening," the driver said.

"We certainly will," Bruma replied, giving Jerrico a sultry look.

As the driver got back into his airspeeder and departed for his next job, Jerrico and Bruma made their way over the penthouse. The building had a semi-hexagonal form, with a minimalistic design. It was broad in size, taking up a quarter of the roof, allowing plenty of room for guests. Climbing a short flight of permacrete stairs, they stepped onto the porch and toward the front entrance. Just as Jerrico was about to pull a keycard from his breast-pocket, the doors slid open without the need for one. They were unlocked.

 _Not possible._ He thought. _I know I locked them before leaving._

He was unnerved but he did not let it show. Remaining outwardly calm, he lead Bruma into the living room. The lavish space was decorated with greel wood furniture and gundark leather upholstery. Standing motionless in the center of it all was V-3PX, one of the Cynthion's protocol droids. Jerrico and Bruma froze when they saw what had been done to him. The bronze humanoid automaton was decapitated. His head, with it's harsh angular face, laid on the floor at his feet. His two bug-eyed photoreceptors cast a vacant stare at his master.

"...W-what in the...?" Jerrico stammered, struggling for words.

He stared back at his servant in horror, then turned his attention to item clasped in the hands of the headless droid. The body of V-3PX held a silver rotomolded plasteel case in front of it's chest. The way it gripped the underside appeared as though it was presenting the object.

"I think someone wants you to open it," Bruma whispered anxiously.

Jerrico reached out with the force, scanning the case with his mind for anything that might allow him to intuit it's contents. To his surprise, he did sense something. A feeling of familiarity, nostalgia even, emanated from the alloy box. He stepped with caution toward the droid, then stopped directly in front of it. Bruma watched on, still frozen in place, awaiting the outcome. Jerrico lifted the two latches with each hand and opened the case. His eyes grew wide with fright and recognition as a short gasp escaped his mouth. Laid on the foam interior was a lightsaber. _His_ lightsaber. The one he had pawned when he first came to Nar Shaddaa seeking a new life. He took it his right hand, still in disbelief over what he was seeing.

"Impossible," he murmured quietly to himself.

"Not impossible," Bruma interjected. "Just rather difficult to acquire. But it was worth it, _Jedi_ "

Just as her words registered with him, the case's foam interior was flung into the air. Another hidden lightsaber emerged from underneath, flying into her right hand through the force. She ignited the weapon, producing a burning red blade from the hilt.


	3. Chapter 3 - Sky Chase

"Bruma?!" He exclaimed anxiously.

"Sefira" She corrected. "Now arm yourself and give me a chall-"

Without a moment's hesitation, Jerrico sprinted away from her, barreling toward the suite's balcony. Sefira was quick to follow, but halted when she saw him about to jump. With the aid of the force, he leaped over the glass railing and plummeted into the skylanes below. Sefira watched him from above, peering over the balcony's edge.

 _Ever persistent._ She thought.

With a telekinetic jump of her own, she gracefully descended in pursuit.

The two of them fell with rising momentum. Rows of airspeeders passed them by as they plunged lower and lower by the second. Jericco was the first to land, breaking his fall with the force atop a utility speeder four stories down. He clung to the roof so tightly his knuckles turned white, all while still clutching his lightsaber in his left hand. Several meters behind him in the skylane above, Sefira landed on the shipping container of a heavy freight hauler with a force-cushioned impact. She moved briskly but cautiously to the front of the vehicle, gripping the container with all her strength. She kept a firm hold on her lightsaber as she made her way across. The wind pulled relentlessly at her hair and dress as she crawled along the top of the storage unit and onto the cab roof. Once there, she caught sight of Jerrico, struggling to keep hold of an airspeeder as the wind raged against him.

With her target now in view, she was ready to strike. For a moment, Sefira closed her eyes, remaining still as she blocked out her visual and auditory senses. With her mind clear, she focused inward, calling upon the fiery fury that burned deep within. In response, a surge of aggression rose up from the depths of her psyche and filled her with ravenous bloodlust. She drew on the force with malicious intent, beckoning the dark side aid her. Enticed by the hate that stirred in her heart, the dark side came forth and lent her its power. She rose to her feet with newfound strength, defying the unabating air current that rushed over her. Standing with her arms stretched out to the sides, she clenched her fists tightly, and fixed her gaze on the Jedi once again. Taking one step forward, she leaned in, and drew her arms back. In that instant, the hauler's driver lost all steering control, as Sefira took hold of the vehicle through the force and aimed it Jerrico. With a thought, she set the hauler on a new trajectory, pulling away from the skylane it was currently in, and down toward her target.

Jerrico was gripped by dread as he looked back, seeing his attacker manipulate a heavy freight hauler through sheer will as she descended upon him. Now panicking, he turned his head frantically in every direction, desperately seeking a way to evade the zabrak's imminent assault. As he clung to the speeder, he looked back toward the rear, settling his eyes on the cargo bed's contents. There he saw sixteen plastoid fuel barrels, each a meter tall, neatly stacked in rows of four. Suddenly struck by inspiration, he allowed his fear to consume him fully, using the distress that rattled his mind to summon the aid of the force. The answer he received came from the dark side. Its power flowed through him, channeled by the foreboding that had taken root in his heart. With his right hand extended toward the barrels, Jerrico reached out with the force, grabbing hold of one and lifting it high. He took aim at her, and flung the barrel with all the psychic might he could gather. Sefira saw it coming and heaved the hauler to her left, expertly avoiding a head-on collision with the make-shift projectile. Jerrico doubled his efforts, this time hurling two barrels at once. They came flying at Sefira on both sides, about to knock her out of the sky. With a wave of her left hand, she deftly swerved the nearest barrel into the other through the force, sending the pair plummeting. An icy chill traveled down Jerrico's spine. He watched anxiously as his would-be-weapons tumbled so far down he lost sight of them. Frustrated and frightened, he lashed out Sefira with another attack, tossing two or and three barrels at a time. Not one a single one touched Sefira. She steered away from them, rammed them with the hauler's nose, and smashed them together with telekinesis. In his fear-fueled frenzy, Jerrico had emptied the entire cargo bed, leaving nothing left to throw at her. He was out of ammunition and out of ideas. All he could think to do now was get as far away from the zabrak as he could.

Turning away from her, he shut his eyes tightly and concentrated. He allowed the fear that plagued his thoughts to spread throughout his consciousness. Under the weight of his worries, it was immensely difficult to call on the force. But there was no other way. The serene and harmonized approach was something he could no longer achieve. Despite of the chorus of doubts that echoed in his mind, Jerrico managed to invoke the dark side, granting him a telekinetic hold over the airspeeder he rode. The vehicle's occupants were less than thrilled to have their transport commandeered. The driver let out a string of curses and repeatedly banged his fist on the cabin ceiling while his wife shrieked in dismay. Now in control, Jerrico changed lanes, descending lower into the traffic. Sefira was quick to follow suit, maneuvering around other vehicles to catch-up with him. As he worked his way down, he searched his memories of the city's layout, trying to devise a detour that would enable him to lose her. Then it came to him, Ferrora Heights. He had passed it a few times while travelling on the trainline. It was an old abandoned industrial zone located on the edge of the district. A dense, permacrete jungle of factories and warehouses. It was the perfect place to get someone lost, and it was only a few kilometers away from his current position. Following his own mental map, he took a series of sharp turns, darting through the streets with a flagrant disregard for the speed limit. Sefira stayed on his tail the whole time, never falling too far behind. Together they moved in erratic zig-zags, zooming over, under, and through the skylanes. They navigated the bustling labyrinth of soaring spires all the way to end of the district. By that point, Sefira was gaining on Jerrico, with no sign of slowing down. He was going to have to do something fast, or else be ensnared by his assailant. As they came upon the zone's perimeter, he steered his airspeeder into a nosedive, heading straight for the Mechnomax Factory. His downward trajectory had put him on a collision course with the east wing bridge. It was an enclosed passageway, linking one of the complex's four flat-top pyramidal annexes to it's octagonal central hub. Sefira, undeterred by his recklessness, continued her pursuit. The two descended through the air rapidly, exerting themselves through force to maintain their footing as rushing winds and rising gravity threatened throw them off balance. The bridge became larger as they drew closer. Their stopping distance was shrinking by the second. There was no backing out now. The course was set. Their only option was to see it through.


End file.
